Before the Bills. Before billion dollar stadiums. Before the NFL became a national obsession, Rochester was already rewriting the rules of football. On dusty sandlots and roaring high school fields, a visionary owner, a Haitian-born trailblazer and a city that loved the game more than college or pro teams laid the foundation for a sport that would change America forever.
On fall Saturdays in the early 1900s, the city’s biggest crowds didn’t flock to college games. They poured into high school stadiums. East High. West High. Entire neighborhoods turned out: families, factory workers, children skipping chores — all drawn to rivalries played with pride, ferocity and loyalty. College football barely registered. And professional football? Back then it was raw, unstable, still finding its footing. And in a city with its own beloved game, it was almost unnecessary.
That reality, more than losses or league rules, doomed the Rochester Jeffersons.
“High school football in Rochester was bigger than college,” said John D. Steffenhagen, great-grandson of Rochester Jeffersons owner Leo Lyons. “Fans would purposely stay away from the games.”
The Jeffersons began humbly: a sandlot team in 1898, named for the avenue where they first played. Over two decades, they climbed New York’s semi-pro ranks, claiming state championships in 1915 and 1916, and facing the nation’s best, including Jim Thorpe’s Canton Bulldogs. By 1920, the Jeffersons were charter members of the American Professional Football Association (AKA the NFL, before it had an official name). Lyons wasn’t just owner and coach; he was shaping the future of the sport itself.
Yet Rochester’s pro team never caught fire. Attendance lagged. Finances were tight. The Jeffersons folded in 1925 with a record of 8–27–4. Still, their influence endured through Lyons’ memorabilia, in the story of athletes like Henry McDonald and in exhibits at The Strong National Museum of Play.
Steffenhagen recalls discovering his great-grandfather’s legacy almost by accident.
“Leo passed away when I was nine,” he said. “Downstairs was like a Hall of Fame. I knew he was into football, but I didn’t understand his role. One day, Art Rooney (Steelers founder) and George Halas (Bears founder) came over. I was playing with my matchbox cars. I couldn’t have cared less.”
Lyons was a collector, a dreamer and a pioneer. He designed the Jeffersons’ shield — the first logo for a professional team. He sketched plans for trading cards, standardized footballs and dreamed of “Major League Football” decades before it existed.
“He had blueprints showing how the ball should be shaped for passing,” Steffenhagen said. “He talked with Jim Thorpe, George Halas and Wilson Sporting Goods. In 1921, at the first Bears game at Wrigley Field, they used a ball Leo designed. Wilson took the credit.”
Football itself was a test of endurance. Players stayed on the field for both offense and defense. No substitutions. No breaks. Padding was minimal: thin leather helmets, sweaters over bone. Broken necks, spinal injuries, festering gashes and even death was tragically common.
The brutality caught national attention. In 1905, President Theodore Roosevelt intervened, hosting White House meetings with leaders from top universities. He urged reforms to dangerous mass plays and violent tactics that had already caused deaths, threatening to ban the sport otherwise. Roosevelt’s pressure spurred the formation of the Intercollegiate Athletic Association of the United States (IAAUS), the precursor to the NCAA. Rule changes followed: the forward pass was legalized, the neutral zone was created and football survived abolition, laying the foundation for the modern game.
Even with reforms, pro football teetered on collapse. Gambling was rampant, players went unpaid and cities were reluctant to invest. Yet Lyons pressed on. He envisioned a sport that could endure. He didn’t just play the game — he invented it.
Lyons was ahead of his time in more ways than one. He championed integration in a country where doing so could have ended a man’s career. In 1911, he recruited Haitian-born athlete Henry McDonald, making him the fourth Black professional football player in the country. Segregation and lynching were still commonplace, and professional sports were overwhelmingly white. McDonald wanted to play against all-Black teams in Rochester, but Lyons refused. Skill and character mattered, not skin color.
“He believed integration wasn’t just fair, it was essential to the game,” Steffenhagen said. “It cost him socially and financially, but he did it anyway.”
McDonald thrived under Lyons’s guidance. He balanced athletics with work at the American Can Company in Geneva, captained the All-Geneva baseball team, and competed in local football leagues. From 1919 to 1928, he trained Hobart College’s football team to eight consecutive winning seasons. Later, he became New York State’s first Black head football coach at DeSales High School in Geneva.
Historic Geneva archivist Becky Chapin has preserved McDonald’s legacy through letters his mother sent from Haiti, his Pittsburgh Black Stars jersey top, a Little League umpire shirt and a plaque from the Rochester Stadium Club.
“McDonald spent the rest of his life in Geneva,” she said, “leaving an indelible mark on both local and professional sports.”
Rochester itself was a proving ground for the sport. Players like Harold R. “Butch” Clark embodied the city’s athletic spirit. Clark starred in football, baseball, and basketball at Cathedral High School (later Aquinas Institute). After serving in Europe with the U.S. Marines during World War I, he returned to play for the Jeffersons and other city teams. His cleats and leather helmet, preserved by The Strong, tell the story of a generation of athletes who played for love, pride, and community rather than fame or fortune.
Christopher Bensch, The Strong’s vice president for collections, added historical perspective.
“From 1920 to 1925, Rochester fielded a professional team — the Rochester Jeffersons,” he said. “When the NFL celebrated 100 years [in 2019], The Strong celebrated the milestone with a display of items honoring the Jeffersons, alongside some more modern equipment representing the Buffalo Bills.”
The insight highlights Rochester’s foundational role in football history, connecting early 20th-century pioneers to the sport’s ongoing evolution.
Even Lyons’ role as a collector reflected his foresight. He amassed letters, photographs, game programs and memorabilia that later formed a critical part of the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s archives.
“He always knew these things mattered,” Steffenhagen said. “Even when other owners told him it was too early for a Hall of Fame, he kept collecting. He wanted a museum. He understood the game’s history before anyone else did.”
In turn, the Jeffersons’ impact went beyond equipment or strategy. Lyons pushed for standardized footballs, sketched out trading cards and even advised manufacturers on the optimal shape of the ball. His vision influenced how the game would be played and marketed decades before the NFL became a national institution.
Today, the spirit of inclusion Lyons championed lives on. NFL FLAG, the nation’s largest youth flag football program, serves more than 800,000 athletes ages 4-17 in a non-contact, inclusive environment. It provides pathways for girls to play in college and off-season training for tackle players while cultivating skills, confidence and sportsmanship. Flag football will debut as an Olympic sport in 2028, a continuation of the vision Lyons and McDonald embodied.
Rochester’s influence is quietly woven into football culture.
The Jeffersons, Lyons, McDonald and Clark helped shape the early NFL: the rules, the logo, the culture, the integration. Without institutional support or a paying fanbase, their achievements faded from mainstream memory, but traces remain. Museums, memorabilia and youth leagues keep their story alive, from cleats in glass cases to kids catching passes on local fields.
Football continues to evolve, but the lessons of those early Rochester pioneers endure. Grit. Innovation. Courage. Inclusion. Their story isn’t written in billion-dollar contracts or national headlines — it’s in the quiet joy of a flag pulled, a pass caught, a goal line crossed.
Before the Bills. Before the brand.
Rochester was already there; inventing, integrating and enduring. Its football spirit — fearless, inventive, unapologetically proud — runs alongside every new generation. Rochester’s first NFL heroes didn’t just play a game. They built a foundation, challenged a country and created a legacy that belongs to everyone who loves football, in all its glory and possibility.
